His Master, Supremely Oblivious
by Purpleperson13
Summary: With the defeat of Jack the Ripper, Ciel though he had seen the last of that brand of psychopath. However, a new looney has turned up and it is up to the queen's Guard Dog to take care of it - with the help of his, surprisingly adept, butler. Sebaciel, hint of Bard x Finny
1. Chapter 1

**So I finally finished 'When the Time is Right' (I know it only took a few days to post, but it was over a year in the making) and have moved on to a new story in a new fandom. I've been a Black Butler fan for ages, but this is my first time writing anything for it. Please forgive any grammar faux pas made. I tried to comb them out, but may have missed a few. **

**This is the first of a 31 fic word prompt thing. I've become quite fond of these, they're fun and challenging. It won't be singular drabbles, there's an actual plot this time. **

**I do not own this story or it's characters (as much as I'd like to) and I make no profit from these stories. **

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Ocean

The sleeves of Sebastian's fine silk shirt were rolled up beneath his elbows; his black blazer was hung neatly over a chair in the bedroom, though the gloves stayed on, despite the fact that no one would dare walk in - thus allowing them, if he took his gloves off, to see the stark black pentagram of the contract mark on the pale skin of the back of his left hand - uninvited to his master's bathroom whilst his master was bathing. Soft leather moved scented suds over the soft, unblemished skin of his master's back and Ciel allowed a fractional relaxation of his tired shoulders.

The last few days had been quite taxing on the young earl; the queen had ordered the removal of a small, but anarchaic, gang who had been causing much trouble in the east end of London. The group had spent the better part of a month threatening civilians, demanding that local shopkeepers pay them money for protection and proposing a 'new order' - namely, their order. Any valuables that could be scavenged or attractive women on the premises were taken as 'insurance deposits'.

It had been discovered, through investigation, that they did not have a formal headquarters. Therefore, they had to take time to apprehend a member of the group (which had proved difficult, completely ordinary looking as they were) and squeeze any available information about the when and where and why of his crude organisation out of him.

Sebastian had, in his black and shrivelled little heart, been overjoyed at the thought of torturing the snotty, greasy man. Unfortunately, without the help of his less than enthusiastic friends, the little rebel had been naught but hot air and unattractive noises. The butler had been most displeased when he'd squealed like a bitten pig at the mere glint of candlelight on the steak knife in his gloved hand, vomiting and whimpering and begging for his life and "I'll tell! I'll tell you everything!" at the gentlest scrape of the blade over his stubbly cheek, down against the point of his fluttering pulse.

In the end it had been disappointingly effortless to round them up. The demon had barely showed them the red of his eyes, or the accuracy of his cutlery, before the frightened sheep were prostrating themselves demurely before the loyal servant of the sheepdog.

Ciel had smirked, gun cocked at what could almost have been a jaunty angle, when the notorious leader fell to his knees at the earl's feet - as a catholic may fall before the feet of the Virgin Mary, appeared to them in times of trouble, to worship. His demon butler had very nearly chuckled at the irony of it.

"Sebastian, I don't pay you to dawdle." Snapped the young master beneath his stilled fingers. Sebastian bit back the retort that his master didn't pay him at all and returned to his task.

The young master tilted back this head, allowing his butler to see that all areas of his scalp had been sufficiently massaged with rose scented oils, before moving (surprisingly obligingly - surely a biproduct of exhaustion) to settle - head back, eyes closed - so that Sebastian could rinse his slate locks.

The young master, making to exit the tub, opened his eyes. And, for an unexpected moment, Sebastian was lost; swallowed by the depths of endless ocean blue, floundering in their thick, sticky emotions and stunted by the violet of the contract mark, burning against that impossible blue and displaying a connection that would bind them forever, until-

"Sebastian! It is hardly becoming of a Phantomhive butler to daydream, especially considering it is night and you do not sleep. Don't presume that you are allowed to neglect your duties simply because we have come to the end of an especially busy period."

The butler didn't even attempt to school his expression of abject amusement at the tiny earl's irritation.

"Apologies, my young lord." He cut in carefully, before his master began spluttering like an enraged fish at his ignorance, voice like silk wrapped steel as he proceeded to dry off his dripping master.

The head of the Phantomhive household watched as he tidied the bathroom efficiently - emptying the ceramic tub, with its gold clawed feet, and storing away the various bottles and utensils he had used to clean his master - before leading the way back to the bedroom, clad in a thick white towel. Here, Sebastian took over, dressing his young master in a thin white night shirt and tucking him in, just so, under the rich duvet. The usual evening routine.

His master taken care of, the demon made to leave.

"Sebastian." He paused. "Stay... Till I fall asleep, stay."

Sebastian glanced back at the peacefull but aware form of his young master, the freshly washed, slate coloured hair strewn across the sheets, and had the urge to reach out. He repressed it. The butler sighed, but smiled.

"Yes, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys! The first chapter of this fic has had such an incredible reception. I tried really hard not to make you wait very long but I can't promise the same in future, I'm sorry. DX**

**I'll do my best. **

**Today's Big Massive Shoutout goes to; B3N-DR0WN3D, preppygoth13, MangaSketch, animeroxkz123, promocat, and the Someone who reviewed, favourited and followed both me and this fic. **

**I LOVE YOU, MY BEAUTIFUL READERS! I hope this chapter lives up to you expectations. **

**As always I am not the owner of Kuroshitsuji, as much as I want to be. **

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Light

Sebastian - in his usual far-too-bloody-cheery-for-a-damned-immortal-straight-from-the-depths-of-hell sort of way - strode into the master bedroom at precisely seven o'clock with a tea trolley and flung open the curtains, thus blinding me temporarily. He rattled off my schedule (the usual array of form signing, letter writing, meeting planning/attending and arrangement making that came with the running of a successful toy company), pouring Darjeeling, whilst I turned away from the window and resisted squirming under the heavy duvet; trying to will away the problem which had manifested itself near my middle.

This had become a semi-regular occurrence since around the time of my twelfth birthday. Sebastian had been present, humiliatingly, and had - upon seeing his young master's 'discomfort' - proceeded to launch into a lengthy lecture about the changes which occurred in a young man when he came of age. My cheeks had positively glowed as I dismissed him (a tad too sharply, though I cartainly did NOT screech) until the issue had flagged. But then it had come on its own, abating quickly. Of late, this wholly inappropriate and pride-damaging 'reaction' of sorts had been preceded by even more inappropriate dreams - which left me flustered and aching for something I was both too naive and too proud to provide for myself. It had also begun to occur during the day, though - curiously - only when I was in the company of certain individuals. Or a certain individual (singular), which confused and annoyed me.

When I felt even the crimson gaze of my butler would not be able to see the swell between my legs, I moved to the edge of my bed. He immediately began dressing me; removing the long night shirt I wore to be replaced with a crisp white shirt, covered by a pinstriped grey waistcoat, long navy jacket and knee-length black shorts.

Sebastian stood back to admire his work and hand me my tea, told me what was for breakfast and that he would await me in the dining hall and departed. I considered throwing a dart at his retreating form, as I had done in the past, just to test him, but resisted. An experiment with a pre determined outcome was a waste of energy, and energy wasted for the sake of wasting it was childish.

If my body was correct, I was beginning the transition from boy to man, thus I should act accordingly.

I should really start keeping my pistol near my bed.

This morning, Sebastian had prepared me some sort of salmon pâté thing on a piece of glorified stale bread, which he seemed quite proud of. In fact my butler had positively waxed lyrical about how the dish was only to be found in some fancy-but-rural part of France where the king took up temporary residence in the summer only to experience this fine delicacy etc, etc, etc.

"How anyone could become so excited about squished fish as to relocate to eat it is beyond me," I said, picking up one slice and eyeing the artfully applied pink paste, dotted green with sprinkled herbs, with skepticism. Sebastian only smiled, which caused the internal raising of an eyebrow on my part. I looked back to my breakfast.

Suspicious as I was, I was also hungry and impatient and trusting that my butler had crafted something half-edible, and it didn't smell in any way dangerous or unpalatable, and he couldn't kill me till our contract was fulfilled. So, in the spirit of acting less childishly, I bit.

It was delicious. But then 'that was to be expected from a Phantomhive butler', so I made no comment. I could feel the smugness seeping out from Sebastian's uniform. I scowled.

After breakfast, my butler accompanied me to my study, where I dismissed him and plucked the first form off of the stack on my desk - which rose, higher than I did, out of the polished oak, casting an ominous shadow that promised abject boredom for at least the next few hours. I picked up my pen, sighed and began to read.

Not ten minutes later, however, saw the return of Sebastian. He knocked the door and, on my call of "enter", stepped politely in. I did not look up from my perusal of the document in front of me; an exasperatingly lengthly account of an incident in the mid-East Indian factory involving a piece of machinery we had been given by a company who were trying to promote 'assembly line systems'*. So far, the contraption had spend up production exponentially, however it was rather unsafe in areas and we were attempting to work out a means of making the machinery safer for the workers. (I.e less likely to raise the percentage of employees leaving work with fewer fingers than they came in with.)

"It's a bit too soon after breakfast for you to be bringing me tea, Sebastian. What do you want?"

He appeared at my side, quiet as a shadow, and produced an ornate silver tray carrying a large manilla envelope. The letter was upturned, sealed by thick red wax which was stamped with a familiar emblem.

"It appears," came the satin reply," that the queen once again requests your assistance as Guard Dog."

My hand slid under the thick parchment and I slipped the silver blade of my letter knife under the wax, it crumbled and fell away and I noted the way Sebastian's eye twitched as I let it litter the table and floor.

"Dearest Phantomhive,

We regret to inform you that you will not have much reprieve from your duty as Guard Dog, as we are once again urgently in need of you help.

Following the closure of the case of Jack the Ripper, we had presumed we had seen the end of such disturbing displays of insanity. However, it appears that his actions have inspired like-minded persons to follow his example.

Over the past five days, three bodies have been discovered, and we use the term 'bodies' loosely, Phantomhive. These corpses were far more mutilated than those found in the Jack the Ripper case, in fact they could not be identified. Scotland Yard have done their best to match the remains to recent reports of missing persons, but their speculations may prove incorrect given the limitations of the evidence.

Despite their efforts, these killings and their frequency disturb us. We fear the yard do not possess the resources to dissipate the threat posed to our people as quickly as is necessary and, as you know, a threat to our citizens is as a threat to our own self.

Therefore, Phantomhive, your orders are as follows; bring to justice this new threat before more innocent lives are lost.

Serve me well,

Her Majesty

Queen Victoria"

The letter left me confused and curious, but my orders were clear enough and my sense of duty as the queen's Guard Dog held priority over any suspicions I may have. I set the letter back down on the tray.

"Sebastian."

"Yes, my young Lord?"

"We have business in London. Pack my trunk and have the carriage readied. Cancel my appointments for the remainder of the week, bring only the most pressing paperwork with us and have all business letters until we return forwarded to my city residence."

"What of the other servants, my Lord?"

"They will be staying here, under the supervision of Tanaka. I don't have have the strength for their stupidity at the moment."

There was a yelp and a crash, followed by two grunts and a serious sounding rumble. Yes, everyone, thank you for making my point for me. Sebastian's eye twitched again, then he seemed to realise something and he turned to me, cat-like smile twitching up the corners of his mouth.

"'Don't have the strength?' Master, surely you would not admit weakness before the likes of me?"

This time it was my eye that twitched.

"Shut up, Sebastian."

I could hear him chuckling all the way down the hall as I stalked off to yell at those idiots and prepare to leave.

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***Queen Victoria's reign began in 1837 and lasted until her death in 1901, coinciding with the Industrial Revolution (which began around the 1950s). I figured a large company like the Phantom toy company would be eager to get in on the action. **

**I'm sorry if the queen's letter wasn't setting the right tone, I struggled with the wording a lot and eventually had to just admit defeat. Also, sorry if my Ciel is OOC, let me know if there's anything I'm doing that's really bugging you. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I want to start off this chapter by saying I took for too long to write this and for that I apologise. DX**

**I shall keep you no longer for I've no one to shout out today. My email deleted all fanfiction notifications for some reason so I don't know who is who :.( **

**I do not own Black Butler, I wait for the day when I do. **

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We arrived at my London property in the late evening, and I had barely and hour to skim-read and scribble signatures on as much of my forgotten paperwork as I could (trying and failing to make up for time lost travelling) before Sebastian appeared around the door and suggested - politely but firmly, in a way that brokered no argument - that I retire for the evening.

"We begin investigations in the morning then, I'll trust you to make the appropriate preparations," I said as I left the office ahead of my butler.

Morning, and the head of the Phantomhive estate was striding down the backstreets of London, dark blue cape billowing out behind him. His butler stalked a respectful two paces behind, visibly relaxed despite the notorious reputation of the area. His knives were a pleasant coolness pressed to his breast under his white uniform shirt. Small. Inconspicuous. Deadly.

Sebastian had paid a visit to Scotland Yard earlier in the morning, when the sun had yet to fully rise (and his master had yet to be woken up) and produced the queen's letter in order to gain information as to where each body was found. The yard had been reluctant, but knew enough to know that when one had permission from the highest up of the higher ups they were not to be declined.

The butler and master found themselves, therefore, in a dank little street full of houses that were clustered together so tightly the dull light from the overcast sky was struggling to breach their high-set window frames, full of jagged glass or nothing at all. A cart had been squeezed between the dangerously tilting brickwork and young officers were attempting to hold back the rag-robed crowd of dirty-faced onlookers. The Earl of Phantomhive paid no heed to them, parting the miniature throng with his very essence to reach the door, butler following behind.

Arthur Randall stood like a huge cloaked gargoyle at the door, a sigh on his lips and a hand to his brow, as if his headache would disappear with shear willpower. The man's eyebrows lowered and his impressive moustache tilted down at the sight of the young noble stalking forward towards the crime scene.

"Phantomhive, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Investigating. Be a good chap and open the door for me, would you Comissioner?" The officer spluttered, outraged, and Sebastian took this as his queue to produce the Queen's letter of permission for Randall's viewing. The butler sidestepped gracefully as the man read and opened the door for his approaching master.

The room was extremely minimalist, if one were to nitpick. Bare walls and a wooden floor, a wooden table, chair, a frail looking bed and a pile of bones in the centre of the floor.

'Bones' was most definitely the correct term, the skin, the muscles, the organs, everything had been torn away. The entire room was painted in splatters of blood, and lumps of severed meat lay abandoned and reeking on the floor. Ligaments and slivers of bloody muscle clung to yellowed bone. The skull was most horrific; clusters of red soaked hair clung to the scalp, the nose lay half attached and the perpetrator had obviously made a shoddy attempt at gouging out one eye, given up and left the white, pulpy remains behind.

Ciel, his face faintly green and eye wide and horrified, turned just inside the door, in an attempt to protect his pride, and threw up in the umbrella stand.

Sebastian watched as his master straightened up, offered him the handkerchief he kept in upper breast pocket, which his master use to wipe his mouth before folding it and handing it back for his butler to deal with. He would have offered more assistance had he not known that he would be rebuffed, as it had in similar situations. Of course, demons are not disgusted by much, thus Sebastian was unaffected and the butler stepped forward to examine the body whilst his young lord regained his bearings. When he felt the prescience of his master just to his left, Sebastian spoke;

"Whomever it is that has been doing the killing, their butchery is something of a disgrace." His expression was of disapproval, rather than horror; hand poised thoughtfully at his mouth and eyebrows slightly furrowed, the slightest downward twitch at his lips. Secretly, he was amused by the whole thing.

Humans trying to do the job of demons. Preposterously funny.

He was right, of course. The cuts were misjudged and unclean. Many failed to slice the entire muscle, leaving wedges of meat dangling from the bone, others had obviously cut in at too steep an angle, chipping and scraping the bone with what had to be a butcher's knife.

Ciel had his butler help him search the room for anything that may have been left by the killer, then asked the onlookers (whom he presumed to be neibourghs) if they had heard anything or seen anyone suspicious over the last week. No luck on either account, so they moved on.

The second and third crime scenes were much like the first; dank, dirty rooms in filthy streets that were covered in blood and strewn in bones. The Phantomhive managed not to vomit at the second and was seemingly completely unaffected by the third. None of the locations turned up any hard evidence, which the butler could see (in the way he moved, the way he walked, the way he spoke) angered and frustrated his young lord.

That night his master was bathed and bedded as usual, and Sebastian left to complete his nightly duties whilst his master slept.

I couldn't sleep.

Images of grotesquely mutated figures swam in seas of red behind my eyes when I closed them, making me sweat layers of ice the heavy sheets of my city bed could not warm. No position brought me any comfort. No amount of tossing or turning or taking a firm tone in my head and telling myself to cast aside this infantile problem gave my any reprieve. I thought of summoning Sebastian, but for what purpose? I had no order to give him. To summon my demon would do nothing but waste his time (and mine, though I hardly had anything better to do) and was thus childish. No. Sebastian would get on with whatever he was currently getting on with and - just this once - I would do something to help myself. I didn't need my butler's assistance all the time.

Cold air, carrying the smell of rain and nighttime, enveloped me like frigid water as I sat up and my duvet pooled around my waist. My bare feet touched the icy hardwood floor and I shivered and padded out into the dark hallway, not bothering with my eye-patch. Who was going to see me this late (or early) in the night (or morning) that I would need to hide the contract mark from, anyway?

As I walked the halls, my mind vaguely set on a drink of water simply to give me a reason to do so, once again the horrifying images of bloody yellow bone strewn across a sinking wooden floor surged up behind my blinking eyelids. I had to fight the tremors in my hands that threatened to spread through my whole body till I couldn't stand. That was something my pride wouldn't allow, with or without witnesses.

At the same I seemed to be stuck in a permanent state of shock, disgust and disbelief that any human being had the ability to mutilate another human being thing that completely. Even my captors, the twisted old bastards who had stolen me from my dead parents in my burning home, raped me and tortured me and pulled the child from within me with burning tongs, had not made my stomach twist like this. Bile rose in my throat when I contemplated the kind of individual who could create such an image as I had seen today. What did one have to go through that would push them so far to the edge of their humanity? What did one have to face that would cause them to loathe so completely their very own species? What-

"Young master?"

"Sebastian!" I whirled and the mildly surprised face of my butler filled my view, before my bare foot skidded on the carpeted floor. Strong, gloved hands slipped under my arms and lifted until I was set, gently, back on my feet, brushing a slight crease from the shoulder of my nightshirt. I shrugged off his touch, ignoring the ache in my groin and the heat in my cheeks and trying to forget that Sebastian had night vision and could see my blush no matter how dark it was. Trying to maintain a shred of dignity, I mentally composed myself and turned to my butler, scowling in what I hoped was a frightening way.

"What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking up on me like that!?" I whisper-roared. (I had neighbours, after all, and it was a matter of some importance that I did not aggravate them. For, although I had a demon on my side, even Sebastian feared the tyrannical Mrs Weaver and her bat-like hearing - which, ironically, was nocturnal. That woman could twist the ear of Satan himself and I am sure he could do no more than stand there and have it twisted. She truly was terrifying. I pitied her husband.)

"Young Master, I apologise for startling you. I assure it was not my intention to-"

"Demon, it is hardly any fault of mine that you move with about as much noise as a bloody ghost. And you didn't startle me, I was just thinking - about the three, ahem, bodies." Sebastian raised one dark brow and I felt a spark of jealousy that I didn't gave the same ability. I cleared my throat again and assembled some of my regular noble air, gazing at me butler with ferocity. "Sebastian, I order you to speak freely on the matters I am about to discuss with you." The hot purple haze of the contract mark burned deep within one eye intensified, so that I could see it's faint light with the other, and that usual aching heat rose as my order was identified.

Sebastian's own red-brown orbs began to glow and throb in a hypnotic, luminous scarlet and he smiled in acknowledgement and amusement. I was sure that, secretly, he was impressed at my ability not to trust him on the most basic level, even now, but I had to be sure I had gleaned every last bit of useful information from him. My butler's capacity for data and ability to observe surpassed mine, and he had often constructed an impressively accurate theory when I had yet to wrap my head fully around the situation presented. This, I hoped, was the case tonight, as my extreme aversion to so much as the thought of our only evidence meant I was no closer to a solution to the queen's problem now than I had been when I received her letter.

"You are aware that I was... Unsettled," and I was sure that bastard smirked when my teeth ground on that word," by what was witnessed today. I have found that I am unable to look at this case objectively and discern a culprit. Therefore, as the only person accompanying me to the scenes of the crimes and the only other person who would know how to adequately process what was found there, you will tell me what you made of it." my hand went to my mouth in though. "As it stands I have been unable to stop thinking about it for the past few hours and have been unable to come up with a suitable hypothesis."

"My young lord could not sleep?" Sebastian looked vaguely concerned.

"A mild case of insomnia on occasion is hardly something to be concerned over when we have a maniac on the loose." I snapped. My butler said nothing, used to such outbursts. They were typical, apparently; 'in accordance with the foolishness of my youth' as Sebastian would put it.

"Sebastian, I gave you an order not two minutes ago. Do you dare to defy me?" The bastard had the cheek to chuckle and I had the very ungentlemanly urge to smack him with the heavy silver skull on the end of my cane. He was fortunate I'd not thought to bring it with me on my midnight walk.

"Of course not, Master," he answered, still bloody smirking.

"So?"

"Ah, yes. With regards to my thoughts on the matter, I suppose you expect me to tell you the killer was a reaper or a demon. However, neither would make such fledgling mistakes as we observed this morning. Therefore the culprit could only have been a human." Something cold and heavy settled in my gut, I struggled to maintain a merely thoughtful expression.

"An angel? We've had issues with them in the past."

"Angels cannot kill directly. They can cause deaths via indirect means, but they cannot simply slit a man's throat." My eyes went sharp.

"How did you know their throates were cut?"

"The human eye could not have detected them, but there were faint marks scored horizontally along the bones of two of the victims' necks - the kinds a knife might make. There is no doubt about it, the guilty party was human." He paused, allowing me to soak up that information, before continuing,"Judging by the fact that none of the victims' neighbours had heard anything suspicious we can also assume the killer to have known all three of them, or at least been well enough respected in the areas where they lived as to seem inconspicuous. The victims-"

It was here that I could listen no more, the churning in my stomach providing a light-headedness that somehow wormed its way into my lungs and constricted. When my wave of dizziness passed, the yawn that brought breath back to me interrupted my butler. He seemed to snap out of his deductive reverie and his face softened in a form of understanding.

"Young master, it is very late. Perhaps you would like to retire and finish our conversation at a more reasonable hour?"

Another yawn and I reached lazily for my demon's black clad shoulders.

"Take me to bed then, Sebastian." If I were to have kept my eyes open I would have seen his pupils dilate, as it was I only heard the smugness in his voice as he lifted me into his gentle arms.

"Yes, my lord."

My eyes drooped and my muscles relaxed as the steady gate of his walk hypnotised my tired body into an almost-slumber. When he reached my room, my butler lit a small candelabra to cast a warm glow throughout the room as he slid me into the warm sheet. A warm, gloved hand slid soothingly through my slate hair. Then he was at the door, blowing out the candles and plunging me into soft darkness.

And with the ghost of his almost tender caress lingering on my skin, I slept.


	4. Chapter 4

**I DID IT! I swear I though I would never have this chapter finished, but I did and here it is. **

**However, before we begin, this chapter's Big Shout Out goes to; Silverfox588, promocat, 1DLoVeR4ever123, PHEsan, Isho Moogoo, The-Queen-of-the-Atlantic, icanheartthedrums and Narutopokefan for following, favouriting and reviewing. Of course, even if you don't do any of these things I STILL LOVE YOU, GENTLE READER, don't worry. **

**As always I own black butler not, though it breaks my tiny heart. **

* * *

I could feel my encroaching headache, like a sort of strange pressure behind my eyes, slowly becoming firmer, sharper the longer I concentrated on it. This always happened when I hadn't sleep well. I sighed/yawned into the cool air of of my office. It would be a while yet before Sebastian next came by to refill my teacup and check that I hadn't died in the time when he'd been taking care of his duties, and I was nearly finished dismantling what had been a three foot stack of paper (I still wondered what demonic sorcery my butler had employed to pack the small tower, ship it and place it on my desk completely intact and perfectly balanced). Therefore, I took the opportunity of a short break before the last stretch to rest my head on the blush back of my chair, gazing at a tiny crack in the ceiling directly above where I was seated and allowing the annoying buzz of my thoughts to settle into soothing silence. Fading sunlight settled the room with a warm orange glow, shadows stretching into dark stripes across the tinted floor. Exhaustion dragged at my limbs and my breathing slowed, my vision blurred and invisible weights made my eyelids droop and close. I supposed I could rest my eyes... For a while...

BANG.

"AAH!" I jolted awake, so abruptly it was a miracle I stayed on my chair, in a darkened room, head whipping and eyes straining to the cause of the noise. Sebastian stood in the doorway, one hand flung out against the wooden door whose contact with the - now dented - wall behind it had been the source of my rude awakening.

"Sebastian! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing barging in here whenever you see fit?"

My butler seemed shocked.

"Young master, I had been calling to you for the last ten minutes without an answer. I though surely something must have happened, but now I have see that you are well I must implore you to make haste, else we shall be late for Baroness Ruthflather's formal dinner. At this rate you will have no time to change. Oh dear, I suppose a change of jacket will have to do. I'll have the carriage readied presently, my lord. Please take the time to fully waken yourself." And like that, my butler, fussing calmly and discussing with himself what jacket I should change into and whether my shoes should be changed as well and whether we (the royal 'we', for of course I did not factor in his chatter) had time to polish the young master's cane before leaving. Stupid demon, of course he did. If my butler could clean my entire mansion - including tending the grounds - to sparking within an hour he could polish one despairingly short cane in a matter of seconds.

I didn't have much time to rouse myself, (though I'd been pretty well roused by Sebastian's entry so it didn't matter much) before I knew it I was being shepherded to the door as my demon simultaneously brushed my hair and changed my coat, handed me my cane and brushed off my clothes, changed my shoes and opened the door to let me out into the cool evening air. My carriage awaited, as promised, and I stepped in, refusing to acknowledge Sebastian's playing footman as settling into the leather lined bench within.

It was too cold. I scowled.

The baroness's party had been... Tolerable. The food was edible, not a scratch on Sebastian's five star dishes, not even close, but not awful enough that I felt the need to fake-cough after every bite so I could dump the contents of my mouth into my napkin. The company was just interesting enough to keep me polite, even if it was only in the interest of securing a little inside information about the plans of my rival companies whilst their owners were too inebriated to notice my deviance (More than once I caught Sebastian, who did not leave my side, smirking as though holding back his laughter as I used my unassuming looks and their drunkenness to ruin their businesses. I could almost hear his offhand comment about how darkly mischievous his young master was). The hostess was annoying and overbearing and thrice attempted to seduce my butler, but generally left me alone and amused me immensely with the way the drunken pressing of her sweaty breasts against the arm of Sebastian's tailcoat caused his eye to twitch in aggravated disgust. It was similar to the expression he wore when Grell talked about bearing his children.

I really should build up my tolerance to these imbeciles and allow them to experience true service. Maybe I could find a way to do so without being present? Some sort of secret window so I could look on and not participate? The idea was interesting at the very least.

When the guests had drunk enough to begin singing obnoxiously and tripping over air and undressing for no reason, I said a firm goodbye and departed. The night was pleasantly cool compared to the moist heat of the baroness's dining hall, therefore I decided to walk back to the house rather than taking the carriage. So Sebastian and I found ourselves strolling over the rough, lamplit cobblestones of London's back streets, our shoes tapping a satisfying rhythm on the uneven stones. We approached a corner which would turn us onto a more central street.

A scream pierced the air.

I looked to Sebastian and a lifetime of a second was spent conversing with our eyes before we were both running, blurring twisting tight corners and short flights of stairs and pitch black alleys with our speed. I could feel my lungs begging for a rest and my heart bucking in my chest and hammering in my head, my legs were screaming and I stumbled on a deep crack in the cobbles and went down. Before I could hit the street Sebastian had doubled back and scooped me up, running now with me braced along his right side, sitting on his forearm.

Suddenly he lept and we were coursing over slated roofs, hopping the gaps. The roof of a small church and Sebastian surfed down the tiles and hit the black alley below running, pitched round a razored corner and burst through the wooden door of something like a jerrybuilt stone shed.

The dying street lamp behind us barely illuminated in bloody orange the silhouette of a top hat and bulky coat leaning with it's back to us over something awkward and still. The dark shape stood and just kept standing, until it dwarfed even Sebastian, top of its hat a bare hand's height from the ceiling, and turned. Dark coals of eyes burned beneath that hat brim, the only thing I could see in the charcoal dark.

Sebastian set me down and ushered me behind him. I was about to argue before it occurred to me that I didn't have my pistol. Instead my hand went to my face, tearing away the dark patch to reveal my cursed eye.

"Sebastian, I order you to capture this man to be taken to justice by order of the queen." Sebastian smiled like a snake.

"Yes, my lord."

He shot in, swinging a kick high, the man darted back, he sliced forth with a bone-shattering punch but the cloak dodged Sebastian's strike, ducking and turning and then the dark shape was whipping towards me at phenomenal speed. It hit me like a six foot bullet and I rocketed back, slammed into the wall, head smacking the stone with an dark crack.

"Young master!"

Spots of strange light danced in my eyes like busy stars and everything was simultaneously deafening and silent, agonising and numb. I couldn't think and I couldn't speak and there was something hot and wet oozing from my side. My coat would be ruined. Sebastian would be angry.

Sebastian. Where was he? I was cold. My coat wasn't helping. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. Sebastian would wake me in the morning. Where was he? All I could see was ceiling, rotting wooden planks and rough iron rivets, but they were blurry and starry and fading. Something pale, studded with two dark rubies and a winking black hole swam into the thick soup of my vision. The world started to pitch and the dark started to grow and my head felt full of cotton and I was so, so tired. All the noise, everything, was dulling and fading and going and I just wanted to sleep, wanted to sleep, to sleep, sleep...


	5. Chapter 5

**Another fortnight (sort of) another chapter. I would like to apologise for not putting the prompts on the last few chapters. Chapter 3 was 'dark' and chapter 4 was 'skeleton'. I promise chapter 6 will not take so hideously long to upload. **

**Ok, my Big Shoutout of the Chapter this time goes to; Hamajo, thatrandomreview, PandaMoeniam , Gyromonsterkitty, Mystitat, CrystalsagaPWI, Cerberus309, XVongolaFamigliaX, ScarletSky135 and ranesbitt13. **

**Thank you all so much for reviewing, following and favouriting both the chapter and my profile, it's SO encouraging. And to the rest of my readers thank you for reading. I LOVE YOU ALL EQUALLY. **

**As always I do not own black butler *cries*. **

* * *

Weak

Waking up to find out I'd been stabbed was not something I planned to make a habit of.

I gasped into consciousness like a cat flung into freezing water and immediately wished I hadn't. My head swam and my stomach rolled and I could feel myself trembling, making the tower of blankets piled atop me tremble. A fire roared, smudging my far-left side vision in blazing orange, piercing through the ache which pressed behind my eyes to open up a whole new arena of pain and making the cold sweat soaking the hair on my brow feel thick and sticky. Despite my shuddering limbs and icy perspiration I could feel the hazy heat rising from my cheeks, I longed for the appearance of Sebastian with some saturated linen.

Now either god had decided to throw me one last loop or my butler had recently developed the ability to read minds, because with this very thought (and the sudden realisation that there was a very real possibility that I was going to vomit and the only place it could go was up) came a blurry, gloved hand to wipe away my perspiration; dispersing the sweat, cooling the fever and settling the nausea.

"Se... Ba..." I sounded like I'd been eating gravel, and it took so much effort to make even such a pitiful sound as my butler 's name croaked through cracked lips that I'd given up even before he began to chide me on 'wasting my energy'.

"My young lord, you must not speak, you are yet far too weak to be exerting yourself talking, there will be plenty of time to do so once you have recovered." And I could swear the bastard sounded smug at my display of weakness. Of course he did. Any excuse to play with his food, I mustered a watered down glare and a hoarse, eerie chuckle caressed the air. It hadn't occurred to me that we might not be alone.

The rasping grated familiarly along my nerves and soon a mop of unruly grey locks and a manic grin swam into view, laughter still trickling from the sharp teeth. My look considerably sharpened and (though it seemed impossible through the impenetrable veil of his lengthly fringe) the Undertaker noticed and began to cackle again.

"Oh earl, your fierceness scorns me so!" He chuckled. I wished for the power of speech so I could order Sebastian to put his head through a wall.

"Well who else did you think was going to take care of that nasty scratch in your side?" He went on, giggling a little at his own joke, his next comment came with the tiniest of frowns,"Certainly not any of those silly human doctors milling about cutting off limbs without a hint of anaesthetic."

"Anaesthetic?" Sebastian provided my question for me, but the Undertaker simply waved a black nailed hand in dismissal and began - to my shock and horror - to strip the layers of blanketing from me. My panic seemed to be translate, because Sebastian looked at me with an expression that may be mild concern and slight embarrassment as I was effectively stripped to reveal a bulky cylinder of bandaging around my middle, holding soft, absorbent patches to the hole in my side.

With pale, deft fingers and a completely unreassuring grin, the Undertaker began to unwrap my bindings. Slowly, my bare stomach was revealed, the patches peeled aside and the wound gaped like a dark, bloody eye opened in my side. The air burned it, though not nearly as much as it should have, and there was a strange white film forming over it. The undertaker produced a long needle, a roll of thick black thread and an ancient clay pot full of something that seemed to emit a sort of soft yellow light which somehow didn't look like it fit in this world.

"Now Earl, this little procedure is not for the faint of heart, or just the feint." he chuckled, and I would have scowled if I wasn't feeling quite so tired, like every part of me was made of lead,"So just sleep and we'll see if we can't get you back to bossing that demon of yours around like you were made to." The Undertaker winked, Sebastian scowled. Then the Undertaker dragged one of his long sleeves over my face and left it there, smiling inanely. It was heavy and thick, I didn't have the strength to pull it away, and for some reason slightly damp. When I breathed through the folds of strangely scented grey, I immediately felt drowsy. A few unintentionally deep breaths, in fact, and I was once again deeply asleep.

When I woke again, I was feeling marginally better. No fever. No nausea. No headache. There was an incessantly sharp ache in my side, fading all the time, but that was to be expected seeing as not a day before there had been a knife being slipped into it.

The room had lightened and pleasant, watery sunlight was glowing through the windows, which my butler stood in front of, still holding the edges of the curtains he had just flung aside.

I shut my eyes again, but didn't attempt to roll over.

"Young master, it is time to get up." He said. In that soft voice that was quite simply invented to coax you into consciousness, draw you out of sleep, lull you into a false sense of security and then cruelly throw you into reality before you had a chance to escape.

"Sebastian," I groaned, interrupting his rendition of the breakfast menu and causing an abrupt stop and a mild glare,"Sebastian surely one such as myself, that is; someone who is severely injured, should be left to rest until found otherwise, that is; someone who is not severely injured. Or injured at all. That is to say what on earth do you think you are doing, Sebastian, waking me up at this god forsaken hour of the morning, Sebastian, when I am nursing a stab wound, Sebastian?"

"'Nursing a stab wound?' My young lord what on earth are you talking about?"

"What on earth am I - Sebast-!" It was then that I stopped, because in my fury at Sebastian's supposed cheek I'd sat bolt upright to shout at him. It didn't hurt as one might have expected sudden movement of a fairly recent, fairly large wound should, in fact there was no pain at all, and when I looked down to where the duvet pooled around my waist and sides, there was nothing but pale, bare skin and a thin, shiny scar which followed the curve of one rib. My eyes found Sebastian's face searchingly and there was a glitter in his eye I wasn't familiar with. If he was a being of lesser calibre I was sure he would have winked, instead he simply smirked and his irises shimmered red and he continued our morning routine, preparing my tea and setting out appropriate attire for today's schedule. I didn't stop him. I saw no reason to have my schedule cleared given my apparent recovery.

"Young master, I would like to propose an... Idea of sorts which may be beneficial our current situation." Sebastian said as he poured.

"And what is our current situation, Sebastian?" I asked, not looking up for where my finger was pressing into the scar along my side. No pain. Extraordinary.

"The situation in which, young Master, your position as Queen's guard dog puts me in the position where even with the level of power at my disposal there are still times when I am unable to protect you absolutely all of the time." He handed me my cup and the steam tickled warmly at my chin. I sipped.

"Therefore?"

"The apprehension of our ripper admirer was an order directly from the queen, it is inevitable that we will meet him again. I assume the young Master wishes our next meeting to be our last, it would not do to have a repeat of last time." Sebastian turned from me to fetch my shirt and set the fine china in its saucer obligingly so that he could begin to dress me. "Not only would this mean that the villan was still at large despite our efforts, but the young master may not be so lucky as he was to have escaped such a near brush with death. Therefore, Master, I propose that you ask of your butler some instruction in the ways of self defence. I am sure you will be able to discern many more reasons than the ones I have mentioned that it would be beneficial for you to know how to protect yourself." My arms slipped through the silken sleeves.

"Does this mean you are breaching our contract? Refusing to protect me?" I demanded, eyeing him sharply as he finished fastening the last button and began sliding my first stocking up my leg.

"Of course not, sir," he replied, slick as oil and smooth as velvet, though there was a twitch of annoyance in the crease of his mouth," I am simply admitting that even I cannot protect you absolutely. There will be recurrences of last night," Stockings settled at perfectly even heights, my butler slid on my shorts and waistcoat," where I will not be able to reach you in time. Our contract states that I must protect you until such times as the conditions are met and I may eat your soul. Therefore, by helping you to defend yourself, I am indirectly protecting you."

"I see."

"I will give you time to think." He said, standing as he finished tying my tie and stalking to the door with the grace of a panther who knew there was an easy kill nearby.

"Sebastian."

He turned.

"Yes, my young lord?"

"I accept."

He smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**I promised not to take ages with this chapter and I managed to keep that promise! I think... **

**Anyway, since it hasn't been long since the previous chapter I haven't much of a shoutout, but I'd like to thank Silverfox588, promocat and PandaMoeniam for all reviewing such lively things, you make me smile :) **

**as always, I shall weep into my memory foam pillow as I am denied once again the rights to kuroshitsuji. Meaning I don't own it. **

Devotion

Devotion

Ciel grunted as he was flipped onto his back once again, the matt hissing as his weight forced the air suddenly through the small metal rings worked into the seams for just this purpose. Grey-blue hair hung in his vision and he struggled with the urge just to lay still; nap for a bit. His muscles felt lead-lined and his head swam a little due to the suddenness of his impact with the plush surface of the matt. A sigh escaped his burning lungs before the young Phantomhive, gathering as much breath as his athsma would allow, got stiffly to his feet.

Sebastian looked less like he was training his young master in the ways of hand-to-hand combat and more like he was a guest in the queen's court. The demon was watching, with a hint of pity-tainted smugness, as his young, frail master stood up wobblily and scowled darkly at his unaffected butler.

When Sebastian had suggested, after his master's injury two days previous, that he train his lord to fight for himself, the Phantomhive had looked slightly skeptical. However, after being given time to properly contemplate the idea, he'd seemed to share in his butler's thoughts that learning self defence (even if it was filed under the category of 'just in case') was actually a decent idea. There would be times, like the other day, when even Sebastian would not be quick enough to save Ciel, and it would do no good to either of them to die before the completion of their goals. So the young lord had agreed, and they had ended up where they were; in the fencing room, surrounded by soft matts, Ciel running blindly at his butler in an attempt to land a hit and Sebastian deflecting every blow with astounding ease.

Hardly ever did the demon actually have to look to see where his master was coming from, his attacks were predictable and his movements loud and scarcely uncoordinated. It had taken his master a short five minutes to realise that his seven years of training in fencing would not help him here. Thus, he attempted to learn from scratch; hurling himself at his butler and ending up either winded from being flipped onto the matts, stunned from being deflected and running straight into a wall, or pinned to the floor by Sebastian's gloved hands, hissing and growling and struggling fiercely like a stray cat held up by the scruff of its neck by a cat catcher.

Leather met skin as Sebastian touched his temple, looking very much put upon at his master's display of uselessness.

"My lord, might I suggest a break?" Ciel looked to be on the verge of doubling over, breath still refusing to return to him. The only thing holding him up seemed to be his pride. Of course, this was not the first time Sebastian had offered, but his master seemed determined to get a hit in before finishing for the day.

"No," I panted, "you may not, I'm not finished with you yet." Sebastian's smile stretched, cat-like, across his pale face.

"Then I will take this opportunity to change teaching tactics, master. When we began your lesson I asked you to simply land a blow. Thus far you have not succeeded, but given that you are against one such as myself this is to be expected. Now, though, it is I who will be attacking, hopefully I can instruct you as we go along."

"Is this not against the contract?"

"No, my lord, it is not. Since I have recieved an order that specifically requires a level of, shall we say, hands on education, as long as I am not severely harming you I am perfectly within the bounds of the contract." I nodded in response. Then, some quite extraordinary things happened.

First, Sebastian removed his tailcoat, (which, of course, did not concern me in the slightest, no sir, even though the only times I had ever seen him fight without his coat had been when he had been one danger level away from retreating into his true form, sometimes not even then) then he rolled up his sleeves - revealing the pale skin of his forearms in the process and causing a temporary stutter in my brain as I watched his muscles tense and his tendons snap, the corded muscle tempting to drag my thoughts to gutters I'd sworn they would never enter - then he faced me.

When he did, he was not wearing his usual I-am-highly-amused-at-your-human-stupidity smile. His face was blank, mouth downturned but not frowning, eyes unreadable, but holding a bit more of their demonic red than was usual for his everyday butler facade. His scarlet gaze rested on me for an excruciatingly eternal moment, before he began to sink down towards the floor. With posture usually so ramrod straight it concerned me, the stance the demon was adopting.

His long legs were bent at the knee, so he stooped nearly to my height, and the leather of his polished shoes caught the light, gleaming dully as he poised on their toes. Sebastian's back was bent slightly and his arms arched out gracefully so that his hands were kept close to his body, defensive. My butler's stance was savage, instinctual, impenetrable. He was a great black cat, crouching on the edge of the greenery, waiting to strike.

Realising I was just standing there looking like a simpleton, which I most definitively was not, I shuffled into a vaguely similar stance in an attempt to appear to have the kind of experience Sebastian was well aware I didn't. My hands were trembling a little where I held them out before me.

Sebastian's eyes found mine. Scarlet. Demonic. Time slowed in his bloody gaze.

I scowled darkly. Bring it on, demon.

Sebastian smirked.

THUD.

My back smacked the wall, flowed closely, painfully, by my head, before my eye had even registered movement. There was a bare forearm at my throat, restricting by breathing, more there to annoy than to asphyxiate. The other hand had both wrists in an iron grip above my head. One leg was forced between my thighs, a hair from my crotch, the other helped to bracket me between the brick wall and the hard body to which it belonged (the leg not the wall). Sebastian's face was a bare inch from my own.

Parted lips spilled hot breath over my face. Red eyes with fat black pools in their centres tugged at my soul and my member. I could feel it as it hardened, stretching out for him. I wanted so badly to... Well in all honesty I didn't know, but Sebastian would. Sebastian always knew. The Sebastian who's breath I was sharing, who's thigh was so, so close to where I needed it to be, who's attention I owned and who's actions I commanded.

The Sebastian who had moved his forearm to the wall and who was leaning forward so that the hairs on his cheek brushed against my own and I could feel his heat on my skin, soft exhalations tickling against my ear, who's deep voice trickled into my brain like warm honey, making me melt.

"Young master. You. Are. Too. Slow." I shuddered.

My eyes had drifted closed, breath coming in quick pants, legs like sacks of water, so close to letting go, so close to-

Wait. No. I could not succumb to his wily ways, as much as my 'youth' seemed to want me to. Had to stop it. Now. Before he changed tactics. Before I gave in.

"Sebastian," I panted, eyes still closed,"stop."

Then his heat and his hands were gone. All of a sudden I felt cold, lonely, and utterly emotionally exhausted. It was a full 10 seconds before my custard-knees buckled and I slid slowly down the wall, coming to a rest when my bottom met my heels. The cold wooden floor found my hands as I hefted my weight forward, on all fours, and black leather met my vision where my eyes were locked firmly on the polished surface. I couldn't look at him.

"Master I-"

"We're done. For now, we're done. You are dismissed Sebastian." I couldn't look at him.

The shoes vanished, soles drumming out his gait on the floor. The door opened. A pregnant pause. The door closed. My trembling limbs gave, I collapsed onto a matt.

I couldn't look at him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Again I've been foiled by impromptu writer's block! **

** Ok, today's Big Shoutout goes to ; ****CrystalSagaPWI, ranesbitt13, promocat, Silverfox588, NVCiel, and morticiacat **

**Thank you all for sticking in and leaving such beautiful words of encouragement as well as following and favouriting. **

**I owneth black butler not. Enjoy. **

**Warning: more sexual tension. **

Goodbye (but I've decided its opposite week so...)

The man in the doorway smiled and Mey-Rin fainted, Finnian a close second when he asked for the head of the household, Bardroy when he laughed. The three lay prone directly beside each other, strange expressions frozen to their unconscious faces.

Sebastian, a little serious and a lot mysterious, chose the moment whilst the man was pondering his sleeping underlings to emerge from the shadows cloaking the sides of the grand staircase, whispered up beside the man and cleared his throat with a soft "hem".

The poor dear jumped near three feet in the air, somehow managing to turn towards the demon butler even in his fright. Of course, at the sight of a mere servant he flushed with embarrassment and laughed again.

Sebastian had the urge to rip his throat out. He restrained himself, if only because he knew it was hell (no pun intended) to get blood out of his white shirt cuffs. Even worse than blackberry juice. It was rediculous.

I was working. Or trying to. I stared at smudged typewriter black ink on stark white pages but it was all just squiggly lines before the eyes of my troubled mind, full, as it was, of clutter; snippets of fact and fluttering images and pools of sound and stickily half-remembered-half-felt emotions. My head slipped into my hands and I sighed. How was I meant to organise a company if I could not even organise my own headspace?

"Hem." Sebastian had been making a habit of alerting me to his presence in this fashion of late, mostly to rid himself of my habit of getting the fright of my life and nearly injuring myself during said fright when he simply appeared directly behind me. I didn't look up from the pillow of my palms.

"What is it Sebastian?" I knew my voice was muffled, but I also knew he could have heard me if I'd been speaking in another estate.

"Young master, the chairman of Barlow Attire has arrived for your 1 o'clock meeting a tad early. Do you wish to proceed with the meeting now or make him wait?"

The Chairman of Barlow Attire. He and I had only been in conference through letters, never formally met. The only reason we were meeting at all was because he insisted a good business relationship required a bit of genuine face-to-face discussion.

His company, as the title suggested, made clothes and were very keen to be sponsored by a company with more money and business experience - namely, Phantomhive. This would benefit Phantomhive as well, as it would open up doorways to new areas of business and wain us credibility and a percentage of profit after the initial investment. In plain English, he was keen and so were we. We being the company.

I proposed my chin on the heel of my hand and fixed my butler with the most sardonic gaze I could muster.

"You may as well show him in, Sebastian. It's terrible manners to keep a guest waiting,nearly or not."

Sebastian's mouth was strangely tight, his movements almost imperceivably jerky, irises red tinged. What was wrong with him? Then it dawned on me; he looked anxious, aan expression I had never seen grace his face before. I held back from any noticeable response as best I could, straightening up as he left to fetch the stranger.

What in the bloody hell could have Sebastian so riled up as to make him actively anxious?

When Sebastian returned there was a man, seemingly standing to attention, in the doorway behind him, and I was (as was my custom) about to spout something witty about early arrivals at him, before it slammed straight to the forefront of all cognitive thought that he was quite possibly the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen. And I had, technically, seen heaven.

His skin was smooth and olive toned, golden-brown locks fell to be tied at the base of his neck in softly spiralling curls and his eyes sparkled a disarmingly warm hazel. His features were strong, but with rugged edge that was so completely attractive I had no time to be annoyed that I would never reach his level of handsomeness. He had a small amount of well kept facial hair, which had been crafted to exist only on his chin and following the line of his squared jaw. He wore a black coat, creme shirt and deep brown breeches and boots, musculature near indecently defined below the various fabrics.

I smiled in a way which, I hoped, wasn't too dopey, mouth a little dry. For now my eyes were only for the devastating man who had come to do business with me. Which is why I missed the muscle leaping in Sebastian's jaw as he ground his teeth.

"Do come in and we'll get started." He approached I what could only be described as an adorable fumble and I extended a hand to him. A warm, dry palm dwarfed my hand when we shook, the skin darker and rougher than my own. He smile. I very nearly melted. This must have been what was meant by a 'man's man'.

"Ciel Phantomhive, head of Phantom Toys, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." And, now that I'd met him, I meant it.

"Wesley Flynn, chairman of Barlow Attire. The feeling is mutual, mr Phantomhive."

"Flynn?"

"Oh, uh, yes. A dear friend left me Barlow Attire in his will. It was his father the business was named after. That is part of the reason I requested a sponsor in Phantomhive Toys; I find my experience in running a business is extremely lacking," He chuckled and I did melt a little then.

A sudden trembling of the hairs on the back of my neck alerted me to the presence of my butler directly behind me, even close than usual. I didn't bother to turn as I sat down, eyes never leaving Mr Flynn, and addressed him.

"Sebastian, we will remain here for the duration of our discussion, for now you are dismissed." I felt no movement.

"Sebastian." Nothing. I whirled, angrily, standing as I did so, eyes finding my butler with daggers in their glare. My butler was gazing at me with an expression that could almost be conceived as hurt. I didn't care in the slightest for his fraud emotions. Yes, he was usually allowed to remain with me during meetings but he had a myriad of better things to do. And how dare defy the orders of his master?

"Sebastian! You are dismissed."

"Young master I-"

"You. Are. Dismissed." My butler seemed to deflate then.

"Yes, master." And he left.

I turned back to my new business partner with an apologetic expression.

"My sincerest apologies for that little display. I'd tell you he wasn't always like that but I'm not sure you'd believe me." He smiled again as I sat.

"Think nothing of it. you handle your butler remarkably."

"So, Mr Flynn, what do you hope to gain from an alliance with Phantomhive toys?" Thus an end was had to the pleasantries and we got down to business.

I had expected, what with the utterly brutal handsomeness of the man that I would enjoy his company immensely, even if it was only in the interest of work, but the more time wore on the more I began to mentally nitpick. His hands, which I had initially praised, seemed to big, cumbersome, not the long, delicate fingers I apparently now favoured, his eyes, though attractive, could not match the maroon irises that my mind's eye conjured as its preference, his musculature was too bulky, too stocky, I was more inclined to the long and lean of limb and his skin, though exotically sun darkened, was nowhere near the smooth paleness I desired.

I was confused, and confusion made me angry.

"You dare to defy your master before company? Do I not make your instruction clear enough for you nowadays Sebastian? Or shall I make everything a direct order from now on?" Sebastian stood straight to attention, simmering with frustration and shame at his earlier lapse as his tiny master - blue eyes burning up at him in cold fury - dragged him through the dirt for his transgressions.

They stood on the main landing, where the stairs split to different wings of the mansion. Mr Flynn had left some hours before and the sun was casting a bloody filter through the long windows, painting Ciel's skin and hair and causing Sebastian to ponder what a lovely demon he would make, before he was interrupted by the continuation of his lecture.

"Were you not present at the forming of your contract?" Sebastian said nothing. "Do you not understand the intricacies which we laid out on that day?" He could feel a burn that should not be possible forming along his cheekbones. "Are you not familiar with the concept of master and servant? Since you so clearly have no clue I shall explain it to you. You and I formed a contract. It states that until the day when you have successful helped me to track down the killers of my parents you are completely under my control."

It was then that Sebastian realised the encroaching breathiness in his master's voice, the flush staining his cheeks and the closeness of his body. He also realised that it was entirely possible that his master had no idea of what he was doing or the effect it may or may not have.

Well this was interesting.

His humiliating forgotten, Sebastian stood even stiller (Which, for a demon, meant quite literally as still as the dead. He didn't have to breath. He chose to.) and attempted to listen to the words being dealt him by his master, whilst willing him not to move any closer for fear what the - ahem - effect be discovered. "You do as I tell you. You do not defy me. You are my pawn. My slave. Until the day you eat my soul. You. Are. Mine."

When his tirade was finished, the head of the Phantomhive household spun, coat tails whirling behind him to whip at his butler's legs. Sebastian (metaphorically) breathed slightly easier.

"Young master, I-"

"Silence, Sebastian." The demon did as he was told. "I trust you to punish yourself accordingly." The soft whumph of shoes against rich carpet reached demonic ears as his master began up the flight of stairs leading to his study, stopped at the top and glanced back to where Sebastian's bloody gaze had been burning a hole in the back of his head.

"That is an order." And he left.

Immediately that familiar venomous stake of pain that was so easy to mask bolted from the remains of Sebastian's heart, twist down through his arm to the dark contract mark on his hand. It would stay until the order was completed intensifying the longer it lingered, but he was old enough not to care, to ignore it until it was convenient for him to fulfil his instructions.

Now was not convenient. Now he had something to take care of, and who didn't like a little pain?


	8. Chapter 8

**I have returned with a new chapter for you to try to distract from the insanity that is my life right now. **

**Also, I am now on tumblr! Go follow me at Shamelesssmutforsure. I draw stuff. **

**Ok, so my shoutout of the chapter on this fine evening goeS to ; AthenaOwl10, Resting-Madness, NVCiel, ranesbitt13, Kia Souma, euphoria-glance, SerpensPrincess, Jacuminja, MsSupreme and Handhop for following, reviewing and favouriting. **

**Thank you all :) **

**I do not own black butler, *cries*. **

**Warning; attempted feels. **

Unrequited

The black-clad butler picked his way through shimmering pink carnage left in the wake of Lady Elizabeth without once missing step. The young mistress had arrived that morning (without a word of forewarning, as per usual) and laid waste to his hard work of the previous night; spreading glitter and 'cuteness' far and wide throughout the mansion. Had the master not already eaten, Sebastian was sure he would have taken his breakfast scones covered in pink lace and white velour rather than cream and jam.

Days had passed since the visit of Mr Flynn and the Phantomhive's stay in the city (which could not be extended for fear of lapsing too far behind in the work of the company) had come to a close. Two evenings previous his butler had packed their things into a waiting carriage and they had made the day long trip back to the mansion.

His young master had elected to ignore any subtle remarks made about his relationship with his new 'business partner' that Sebastian may slip into conversation. However, when the butler had attempted to expressed his concern that the convenient arrival of Mr Flynn in the midst of their current case may be more that coincidence, he had been given an "oh hush, Sebastian," and no more of such talk had been allowed. Surely there was someone more going on.

Somewhere, deep within the halls of the Phantomhive manor, there sounded a squeal, then a thud, an eternity of shuffling and grunting, then another squeal, was far more joyful and far higher pitched. Sebastian, in a moment of weakness, stuck his pinkies in his ears, wincing. He'd take the endless screams of the damned over the young mistresses' dog whistle delight any day.

Late afternoon light drifted through the window in silken strands, turning my papers from manilla to gold leaf and my desk from oak to deep, glittering mahogany. The clock ticked cheerfully towards the end of another working day, a few hours left but it had been, thus far, peaceful so I was happy to continue.

It was as I was allowing myself to enjoy the silence, indulging in the last of the day's surprising warmth as I gazed out of the window across the grounds, that there was a shuffling of feet in the hallway directly outside of the door, as if the possessor of the feet did not know if they should knock on the door or run for their life. At first it was easily ignored, except that it didn't stop. Distracting and annoying. There was a single, timid knock at the door; so soft I took a moment to wonder whether I had imagined it or not. Confusing and annoying.

"Come in."

Not a sound. Curious. And annoying. I strode to the door, whipping it open so fast I heard papers from my desk - all the way at the back of the room - take flight and flutter to the floor.

Lady Elizabeth stood, back to the wall opposite the door to my study, cowering against it as if she were a mouse and I a hungry cat (which, on later though, would probably please Sebastian immensely). She had a solemn look about her - as if the light that shone behind her large jade eyes had been doused under a candle-snuffer - her face was set in grim resignation. It was the kind of expression one wore on attending the funeral of a great uncle they had only met once when they were very small; a sort of stunted grief. Something twisted in my gut, but not the way it should.

"Lizzy? What are you doing?" I spoke softly to her, only to her. No one else had ever received this gentle tone from me and, to my knowledge, no one ever would. She had earned at least that much from me, and I had garnered this much affection for her.

"I- can I- I've something thing I need to tell you, Ciel." Her expression told me how badly she wanted to avoid this thing she wanted to tell me, but how determined she was to tell me it. Stepping aside from the entryway, I watched as she marched - head bowed - to the chair before my desk; usually used for the most serious of business interactions, I made clients or employees sit in it when I had to look threatening and no-nonsense.

Gracefully, she seated herself, and I took my place before her and took in the sight she made. She had her fists clenched tightly in her lap and she was staring at them with an intensity I could tell was straining her eyes, her nose was red an her eyes bloodshot, as though she had been crying. She was trembling still, her curls bobbed with the force of the tremors. I wondered what could be affecting her so, but said nothing, waiting for her to speak.

"I- I- know you don't- it's," she started, stuttered, then stopped. Jade orbs squeezed shut and she swallowed hard, obviously trying to rid a lump from her throat. Minutes ticked by in silence, but, when she did finally open her eyes, Lizzy had stopped shaking, her fists unclenched and she slowly brought her gaze to meet mine - visibly calmer. A new resolve was written clearly in her expression.

"We always knew, since we were children," she began," that we were to be married one day. Most people would have been upset; being told that they had no choice in what they could do or who they could love, but I wasn't. I never have been, because I've never wanted anyone else. Only you. Always you." and there was stint smile on her face as she said it, as though she was reliving old happiness, I stayed silent," Obviously it's not in the nature of boys to think about love when they are as young as we were when we were told, so I never mentioned it. I thought that, in time, you would grow to share my feelings. Maybe you could come and confess to me before I confessed to you. Those kinds of fantasies kept me going, but then-" A choked sob and there were tears, sparkling like scattered diamonds, in the corners of her eyes. Some of her fire died and she went back to staring at her knees, but she didn't stop talking.

"Then the fire happened. And you went away for so long. I was so worried, I missed you so much. Then when you came back you were... Different. You were still you, but it was as if you'd grown up fully on the inside and only a little on the outside. And you had Sebastian with you." she did look at me then, and her waterfall gaze was so earnest I was near physically moved at the sight of it,"You and him; you make such a great team, Ciel. Sometimes I wish you could watch yourselves and see how well you work together. I still hoped there was room for me in all the change, but, well, then you kept on growing up and it became obvious pretty quickly."

"What did?" With the trails of her tears glittering on her cheeks, she smiled.

"I know you don't love me, Ciel. Not like that, anyway. I've known for a long time." She was still smiling. So sad. So kind. "I don't resent you for it. Not at all. We can't choose who we love, after all - but I can't help but feel a little bit of jealousy towards the one who stole your affections for me." Now she was laughing, still crying, but laughing.

That shocked me too. As far as I knew, my affections resided with no one. Who did she think was the person I'd supposedly fallen for? More importantly, what was the purpose behind this confession?

"Was this your way of telling me that you want to cancel our engagement?"

I got a strange look for that.

"I still want to marry you, if for nothing else than to help you. I love you, Ciel, that means I can be happy just being near you. So it's ok for you to love that person, I just wanted you to know that I'm not only marrying you out of kindness. That's all." She wiped the salt water from her face with a lacy handkerchief and made to leave.

"Lizzy, wait a moment, just who is-"

I didn't get a chance to finish the question, because the door opened and my butler entered, surprisingly devoid of glitter. His gaze found the post-weep, floral form of Elizabeth and he raised a raven eyebrow.

"My apologies, Master. Could it be that I have interrupted something?"

Lizzy was replying before I had opened my mouth.

"No, no, Sebastian. You are right on time as always. We were just finishing our conversation."

She stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirts, then leaned across the table to peck my cheek. On brand new, white leather boots that tied together her meticulously planned outfit perfectly, she spun a graceful circle and danced to the door as if she had not just been crying on my desk. The emerald light in her eyes was back as she gazed at me from the door, trying to convey a message that I couldn't decipher. When she looked at Sebastian, something shifted, her expression grew strangely sad and suddenly I understood.

The roaring was back in my ears, the same one I had had that night when my butler told me the murderer was human. I didn't notice her leaving, I didn't notice much of anything until Sebastian started shaking my shoulders and calling my name.

Sebastian.

She thought I was in love with Sebastian. Why was I not repulsed by the idea? It was insane, impossible, dangerous. For a man to be in love with another man was almost unheard of, a demon even more so, and it was most definitely illegal. But since when had I cared about any of that? I'd summoned a demon for goodness sakes, there had to be some sort of law against that, if not governmental then moral. I was already bound for hell in a ribboned basket. If I was going to fall out of the holy tree, why not hit every sinful branch on the way down?

But... To be in love with Sebastian... I had never thought about it before, but the more I did the more I wanted to devote more time to thinking about it. In love with Sebastian? It could certainly explain the stimulating dreams. And the stimulating reality. And the way my cheeks heated when he touched me. And the way I craved for him to touch me. And the way he was the only one I could stand to spend as much time with as I spent with him. Yes, it explained every strange, unnamable twist of emotion I'd ever felt and the fact that I always felt them when I was with him. It explained everything, but that didn't mean it was true.

Elizabeth thought I was in love with Sebastian.

Which begged the question; was I?


	9. Chapter 9

**I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! It took so long and came out so short! Blaaaaaaah im sorry, please forgive me!**

**Ok so now I'm done crying, my shoutout this time goes to; ****Astral writer, CrystalTulip, nelle13, nekoflein, NVCiel, Morticiacat, ranesbitt13, SerpensPrincess, Bake-Danuki and crazy yinyang writer7! Thank you for your favourites, follows and kind words. **

**Remember, even if you're not mentioned here I STILL LOVE YOU! **

**Once again I do not own Blac Butler, but I'd like to own Daisuke Ono ;£ **

Anger

Sebastian shut the door behind the newly departed Lady Elizabeth and a painting rattled and fell with the crack of my knuckles against the wall. My butler, an expression of mild alarm on his face, stared across the room at my prone form, fist embedded in the slight dent it had created.

When the rush of stinging, bone-aching pain came surging through my hand, I sagged, let my head drop and my elbow bend but didn't drop my arm. My eyes stung with tears of frustrarion, a familiar burn I had not felt for a while and thought I was overcoming. In such cases as this, I supposed I was wrong.

When Sebastian had devised that the source of the noise was not, in fact, an axe murderer or (any other brand of threat), he visibly relaxed, usual half-sarcastic smirk emerging on his face like an island in thick fog.

"Young master," he drawled, and I loved his voice. His smooth, velvet and honey and danger and timbre voice. When he, this monster, this being of purest evil and greatest power, called me master in that sinful voice a part of me shook. When he used more tender words towards me my reactions were softer, more a flutter than a quake; a gentle murmur down in the pit of my gut where all the strongest feelings came from and by god Lizzie was right. I wouldn't call it something so fallacious as outright love but there was something, right down there where something shouldn't be, growing and mutating and finally becoming noticeable in relation to my butler.

Oh Lizzie. Poor Lizzie. How long did she bear that weight she'd just told me of? And I was sure I made it no lighter, with the constant attention of my butler and my insistence that he not leave my side unless in the most private of situations. Sometimes not even then. Throughout all her suffering, all her heartache I had stood by, oblivious and rubbing salt and lemon into the wound. Of course, my insistence was justified by the fact that he was a demon contractually bound to serve me and never lie to me until the day he had fulfilled my goal and could eat my soul, but this was hardly a topic I was willing, or even able, to approach with my fiancé. Though I did not believe in the rubbish of the day ; that women were fragile creatures to be sheltered and protected, (I had met women who would rid any bigoted human being of that notion swiftly and without mercy) I knew enough of the society I currently resided in to know that admitting to summoning a demon was a faux pas no matter what gender you happened to admit it to.

I looked to Sebastian. Did he know? Could he tell? Did his powers extend to sensing the blossoming thing I held for him? Perhaps Lady Elizabeth had told him? No. She was not a vengeful creature. I had known her all my life and never known her nature as anything other than a kind, gentle thing, unable to hurt anyone intentionally. In fact I had seen her weep with the thought that she might have offended someone.

I hadn't realised I had stopped listening to Sebastian until I suddenly was again.

"- Why I would say that was your most successful hit yet, given your recent-" Then I didn't want to hear anymore.

"Why?" Confusion, vague but clear on a face that was always contemplation a million things at once.

"My young lord?" At that - at his ignorance which I knew was completely genuine but somehow, in my chaotic, twisted head, felt was mocking - snapped that thin line of tension which existed between whisper and shout.

"Why, Sebastian? Why do people choose to hurt themselves for the sake of others? Why do people deliberately cause themselves pain so that another person can experience a happiness more fulfilling than they think they might have had if they'd interfered? Why do people cry all alone because they can't have what they want, and it breaks their heart and they're okay with that because someone else is getting what they want? Why? Why don't people go after what they want? Why do they think that others even MATTER?" I voice cracked on that last word, reedy and hoarse and broken, and I slumped, hung my head so that I could no longer see Sebastian through the veil of my fringe, bloody knuckled hand clutched at the wrist by the other, radiating an acid burn and bleeding away flecks of white plaster stuck in the wound. It was barely a fraction of Elizabeth's pain.

The room had gone eerily quiet, with the echoes of my fractured rage dissipating softly into the air. I did not move. Sebastian did not breathe. An era of silence passed over us who's mood was as unreadable as Sebastian's eyes, before my gaze rose.

My butler stood, a marble statue, eyes on the carved limestone and golf leaf border which flowed elegantly around the edges of the ceiling in a scooped design (which I had never felt an inclination to learn the architectural term for, as I didn't feel I would ever need to produce it during future life threatening situations) poised as though contemplating my words, before the stillness shattered and he sighed, turning to me with a sigh that was as soft and laughing as it was resigned.

"I think, young master," he said, and I might have described his gaze to be an affectionate one if I would not have thought myself delusional afterwards,"that that is the best description of real love I have ever heard."


	10. Chapter 10

**I DID IT! I BEAT THE WRITER'S BLOCK! **

**Everyone I have finally returned victorious with a new chapter! **

**I would like to give a shout out to; morticiacst, thegeekstrikesback, Silverfox588, Crystal Cay, Vertigo Step, Gloopy13, Dreaming-A-Storm, Shittlesworyh, Kia Soa, promocat, ranesbitt13, NVCiel and RuledbyChaos for reviewing, following and favouriting. Of course i love all my readers to death :) **

**Now do please enjoy. **

**I do not, once again, own Black Butler *cries*. **

Innocent

The young master sat, dwarfed by his chair and surrounded by mounds of pages which rose from the surface of his desk, each emblazoned in stark black ink. Some held sketches, others were covered in his lord's scrawling notation. All related to the case of the mutilated bodies.

Sebastian made no sound as he entered the room and took in this sight. His young master let out a rupturous sigh as he batted yet another sheet of annotated evidence away in disappointed disgust. His hand, as was its habbit when he was frustrated, slid into his hair and gripped hard, so that his face twitched in a wince and his knucles went white with the strain.

Such stressful situations were surely not healthy for a body already so small and weak, but -as the young Phantomhive had told him time and time again - it was not the butler's place to say, so he didn't.

He instead made his way into the room, taking his time simply because he could, and came to stand behind his master, silent and graceful like falling snow.

He intoned a gentle 'ahem' to announce his prescence, and his master's reaction was so violent that he momentarily exited his chair. A flush bloomed across his cheeks as he hastily shuffled back into position in the dip frequent usage had created in the sea of leathered pillow on his colossal chair. His hands gripped the hem of his long jade jacket selfconsciously, consequently crumpling the fabric and contributing to the burning air of embarrassment that hung around the young earl like mist. Sebastian chose to overlook his not-quite-characterful display of fright (were he not to - overlook it that was - the butler butler may have pondered the reasoning behind the aforementioned fright. His soft indications of prescence had appeared to be lowering the ammount of sudden appearences which resulted in injury. Perhaps he had simply been engrossed? But then why did he seem so ashamed of himself afterwords? It was hardly as if Sebastian had not seen him in more shameful positions - which displays of humiliation pleased the demon immensely on many levels but were besides the point. He supposed the mystery was best saved for his long hours of mindless menial labour later whilst his master slept) instead inclining his head to better view the ten or so pages sprawled over the only cleared space on the felt and oak surface.

The area displayed three sketches of the first body they visited from different angles, a list of 'clues' found at the scene of the crime (which was disparingly short, it was hardly a wonder the yound lord was so put out) as well as drawing of each item beside its name and screeds and screeds of long, looping penmanship which Sebastian recognised after a moments reading were his own observations upon the murder, with detailed annotation, rates of plausibility, supporting evidence and unanswered questions written in scribbles which curved up the margins of the page illegibly.

The butler leaned forward, back bending to an elegant curve as he placed down the cup of softly steaming tea he was carrying on a silver tray - arm a hair's breadth from his young lord's slim shoulder - and wondered just how much 'accidental' touching he could get away with whilst his master pretended to read.

He was too close. My entire body had thrummed with just his prescence but now it was tight like a bowstring ready to snap.

His arm barely brushed over the padded fabric on the shoulder of my jacket and I could feel it, like a brand on my skin three layers of fabric below.

Of course I knew his touch was platonic and unintentional - a mere fumble between master and servant - but to my mind; a mind that had recieved several devastating bombshells in short succession not a few hours before, a mind that was desperately trying to recover under acute stress and the pressure of a duty belaid on it by none other than Her Majesty, Queen Victoria whist juggling the running of a decently large company and the control of a particularly powerful demon (which was a full time occupation in and of itself), a mind pulled apart in every direction every second it was active - it was everything.

It was fire and emotion and it erupted along my nerves with tidal force that I was sure was impossible. It set my teeth on edge for entirely the wrong reasons - being that I was holding my tongue to prevent myself from making any orders I would regret (which would be both immensely stupid and immensely worth it up until it was over and I had to try to deal with the situation professionally) rather than holding it to prevent myself berating him on his cheek for touching me without permission.

I was trying to come to terms with the less-than-platonic regards which I held towards Sebastian amongst all of this and it was becoming even more impossible because Sebastian had leant further - almost doubled - over my shoulder and dropped his arm to what I was sure he thought was the arm of the chair. It was actually my bare knee. Perhaps his gloves distorted texture more than I thought?

A ripple of goosebumps ran up my leg at the touch of the soft leather. I repressed a shiver at the tickle that danced across my skin.

My butler stooped lower still, pouring over a particularly illegible piece of script in apparent attempt to make sense of it. However he did not account for his own upper body weight. He'd barely begun to topple over my shoulder when his hand shot out instictively to steady him, knocking my tea into my lap in it's haste.

I cried out at the heat and Sebastian was on me in but a second, jerking my chair out for better access and dropping to his knees to tear away the soaked articles of clothing.

His head was stooped over my lap in concentration and suddenly I wasn't even thinking about the burn on my upper thighs, my cheeks flamed and I pushed desperately at his shoulders, trying to compute to him that he wasn't welcome (or was far too welcome) that close to my groin.

"Sebastian, no-" I was cut off by his stare. The one he used when I was being too stubborn.

"Young master, if we do not remove the clothing quickly and attend the burned area it may scar." At his last word there was a rush of cold air and I was suddenly stripped from the waist down. I fumbled to cover myself with a hand as my butler began to closely inspected the unhealthy lobster flush which splattered across my upper thighs and over my lower stomache. I was almost sure he smirked at my modesty.

Large, leather covered hands gently prodded along the harshly reddened area, their coolness a blessing on the burn and a curse on my frayed nerves. After a moment of gentle feeling along the sensitive flesh of my upper thighs, Sebastian tutted.

"I will need to apply ointment to the area to prevent blistering. Do not move, master, or you will irritate it." He said as he stood.

And then his body heat was gone and the room was empty and eerily silent.

I felt like a fool, naked from my shirt south to my socks and sprawled over a chair with burn marks blossoming up the most intimate section of me, my cheeks heated in the silence before Sebastian came back.

He appeared an eternal minute of shame later, bearing a small, deep red bottle with 'Dr Brown's Burn Ointment' printed carefully over the cheap parchment label, and a silken cloth. My butler immediately dropped to his knees before me again, coattail flipping up behind him, and removed the cork with his too-sharp teeth. I was embarrassed and ashamed by the delicious fluttering that started in my gut. I twitched where I was hiding myself beneath my hands, cursed my youth, held my breath.

He held the thick silk of the cloth, folded double, over his fingers and poured the thick yellow liquid over the white fabric. Sebastian's fingers inched towards me, causing me to gasp as the shockingly cool ointment hit the skin at the very edge of the burn on my upper thighs, my breath hitched in what I hoped was an unnoticable way as his fingers began to move.

It was utterly delicious. His fingers on the warm, intimate skin of his young master's thighs - even through two or three layers of fabric - as he rubbed the healing oil gently into the reddened flesh.

The little gasp his master had made at first contact had driven Sebastian's mind imediately into very dirty places which he did not even attempt to drag it back from, because what were the chances he would have such an opportunity again without a punishment looming for his clumsiness?

When the ointment had warmed to the combined temperatures of Sebastian's gloved fingers and his lord's upper thighs, the butler began gently massaging what he knew to be an area of high sensitivity, glorying in the tiny gasps and hitches of his master's breath, the shifting of his hands, the flush in his cheeks.

The Phantomhive's abdominal muscles shuddered subtly under his fingers as Sebastian began working on his lower stomache, dangerously close to that area which was closely guarded by his young lord's trembling fingers. The demon didn't miss it when those hands juddered slighly inwards - a silent plea for further contact and a little bit of much needed contact.

He kept going, pushing into the skin with just the right ammount of pressure to slowly drive his virgin master slowly insane, watching him silently caving beneath his hands.

He timed it perfectly - much to his own delight and that of his ego - so as to seem utterly innocent. His hands, oil slicked and silk covered, danced across the skin of his master to a pedantically precise beat, enflaming the fires of his young master's body slowly and meticulously until his eyes closed and his head fell back. At the exact point when his resolve simply shattered, when it all fell away and his hips drew back to buck into his fingers, the butler drew away, stood and left to retrieve a new set of clothes for his young lord.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! I have for you today, as a peace offering, a new chapter! **

**Once again I would like to appologise for my tardiness (I know a number of you lovely perpple have told me you don't mind the wait, but I hate waiting for things, so I hate making you wait). **

**Ok, moving on, we have my shoutout of the chapter! This time around I would like to thank; gamergirl75, Howl3, DarkRose224, Handhop, aquablue15, Kunoichi Umi, Silverfox588, chibi-shueiri, tenal, Luna-and-Artemis, ranesbitt13, promocat, Kira-writer and Kia Souma for favouriting and following me/the story and leaving such heart warming reviews :) you absolutely make my day, all of you. Of course I love every one of my readers. **

**Now, I do not own Black Bulter or profit from my wroting blah blah blah on with the show. **

Slow

Ever since their first meeting - when Sebastian had felt the tickling of a prescence in his domain and followed it, out of boredom, to the tiny human with the fierce eyes and the iron will who demanded a contract of him with a fearlessness that many a demon lacked - Sebastian had known he was in the prescence of something special. Something worthy of him.

He had been correct, of course, as he so often was about such things. His master, though far from perfect, was as close as the demonic butler had so far experienced. Which said a lot, considering that he was old enough to forget his age because oh surely that wasnt's another century over already? He had seen more countries that the most prolific explorer, spoken in more tongues than the most learned linguistic scholar and done more extraordinary things than probably any living thing that existed, and some dead things, too.

The butler pondered all of this as he walked the halls in the wee hours of what promised to be a spectacularly wintery morning, despite it being mid autumn. No snow had, as yet, fallen, but there had been a thick crust of ice over the estate's greenery the previous day right up until noon. Sebastian could feel the subtle changes in the air, the shifts of pressure. Yes, it would snow. And if it didn't he would be greatly dissappointed and at least slightly annoyed. He liked snow, the granduer and glamour it presented to hide its innocense and fragility.

Much like his young lord.

The demon's thoughts congealed like two jugs if water poured into the same bowl and the snow was his young lord's skin. Their likeness was astounding; the softness, the paleness, but they differed in temperature. The icy touch of snowflakes did not hold a candle to the velvet warmth of his master's thighs.

A tingle spread over Sebastian's palms as that memory bloomed through his mind, blanketing his senses. Stronger than reality. But then reality was a weak concept, anyway. In reality everything was happening at once, you had no time to process anything, to step back and just drink everything in from only one sensory orifice. In memories you could shift and sort, grasp the things you liked and focus on them until they embodied that experience, disgard the things that didn't matter and tweak so that the world was exactly how you wanted it.

As the rhythmic tap of his polished shoes rippled up the high walls of the cavernous hallway, the demon allowed himself to embody that memmory which had been a source of great recreational enjoyment to him since its happening.

He could feel the satin smooth skin of his young lord's flat stomach beneath his fingers - his leather gloves having diminished the sensation only very slightly even at the time. He could remember the slide of the ointment, its acrid smell of aniseed and healing, the light burn of the scent in his nose, strong enough that he could taste it in the air on the back of his tongue when he inhaled.

The remembered give of the flesh as he'd rubbed and kneeded sent fresh sparks down the demon's back and now, as at the tims, he had to suppress a growl. It had all been distracting to say the least without the noises, the tiny gasps and snuffles and barely suppressed moans as his tiny Phantonhive tried to mentally resist what Sebastian was aware was probably an unprecedented onslaught of pleasure for one of such youth and innocense - one who was untouched even by themself.

Sebastian could smell his young master's clean scent, of rose oil and rich lavender soap, black ink and thick manilla parchment, darjeeling and sweet pastry and pure, unadultered flesh. And his soul. His delectable soul whose flavour was only describable in the old languages, the ones before humans, the words of which were intranslatable. These words, ancient enough never to have been written, floated in the inner lake of Sebastian's thoughts as fish who moved in murky water, more sensed than seen. Such words called to Sebastian's more primal parts, the parts that wanted to mark and claim and take what they deemed belonging to him, and he had to settle himself before he could move his though process on.

As a butler, and a demon under contract, Sebastian had been required to be polite, civilised. So far he had managed, but he feared the consequences should his master find out how very close he was to the edge, to shouting an ironic 'to hell with it' and simply taking his lord. It was both disgraceful and unavoidable, especially with the yound earl spread out under him like that - in nothing but his shirt, shoes and delicious stockings - debauched and sprawled under in his chair. Utter surrender. Complete desire. His demon possessed absolute control.

It had been the single hardest thing he had ever done not to abuse it, to tease rather than take. But he had.

Sebastian was rather proud.

There was one persistent niggle, however, and it came under the simply infuriating, embolded heading of 'he had no idea'. His young lord, that was. He had no idea of how intense his butler's desire for him was. He had no idea the demon stalked the halls at night, after he had completed his duties, thinking about the tiny, lingering contacts when he brushed the skin of his legs putting on his stockings, their fingers when he passed his lord a cup of tea over his desk when he had decided his master was in need of a break, arms and shoulder and hips and chests during those soft moments that occaisionally transpired, where their eye would lock and Sebastian would have to fight not to lose himself.

Indeed, he had spent many a night taking apart these experiences, making them his own. And he had felt all those feelings, the soft flutterings in his belly and the tingles in his everywhere. It had not taken long for him to determine that this kind of desire that smouldered in him for his young lord was not the same as any other permutation of desire he had felt before.

For, as much as he craved his master's flesh and soul, he found himself wanting his more delicate aspects as well. He craved the silent warmth of the breaths that brushed his neck when he carried his young lord, the educated tenor of his voice, the delicate thrumming of his heart which Sebastian could - inside his own head - freely admit sounded muscal to him.

And his young lord knew not one hint of this.

Though it was hardly for lack of trying on Sebastian's part. Granted he had yet to express himself outright but it appeared to him that the only person who was not knowledgeable about his affections was the only person at whom they were directed. In fact, one of the reasons his master was the subject if so many quiet utterances over the stiff drinks of the rich and businessly, and the conspiratal whispers of their too young, too foolish wives was because they though he yad indecent relations with his butler. Sebastian had never tried to correct them, even when within human earshot of their scandalous words, because he rather liked the thought that his claim on the phantonhive was so widely percepted. Though not, he though gravely, by the person this claim most deeply affected.

Even smart humans, who rose above the standard of the common or garden fool and the steetwise fat cat alike, were sometimes surprisingly stupid. But they were, after all, only humans.

Sebastian's mind went once again to his master's unique humanity, and he recalled the day when he had played the violin for his master and Lady Elizabeth. The tune his violin had coaxed from the stings had been in time with the beat of his young Lord's heart then. It was a symphony designed to be played by one for another so that they could express without espressing that, right now, they revolved around the life of the other. Sebastian's sensitive ear could almost conjure the gentle beat now. In fact, he could hear his master's heartbeat. Quite clearly, too. Odd, though he could hear the beat of his master's heart from all over the mansion, it was only ever this noticeable within a close range of about 5 yards.

Opening eyes that he did not know he had closed, though he equally did not require to be opened, Sebastian discovered himself directly outside his master's bedroom.

Now that he was paying attention, Sebastian's sensitive ears were able to distinguish the gentle huff of breath across a silken pillow, the whiff-whiff of legs shifting under a heavy duvet, the slow clench and pull of life-blood meandering around a resting body without effort.

Scarlet eyes searched the door for something indistinguishable before his gloved hand closed around the ornate brass egg of the doorknob. Turning, pushing, he arrived in that foot wide space between the dark oak floor and the jungle of thick gold tassles that grew out of his master's richly embroidered carpet.

Across the room, snuggled up in a tangle of silken sheets, lay his young master, the stub of a candle his master had insisted be left lit sending a fading fan of red and golden light over the quiet dark and setting fiery highlights in his thick blue/grey hair.

Sebastian stepped to the bedside, silence itself, a hand already stretching out for the ornate silver candle holder, even when his eyes were occupied with the way the flickeing rays danced on his master's rosey cheeks and the petals of his sleep pouted lips.

He brought the dying flame to his lips and blew. Almost entirely lost in the sight of his master illunimated by the warm glow, Sebastian was slighly surprised when the room folded into soft darkness, his master's featured lapsed from pink and gold into blue and silver under the moonlight which crept with pearly tendrils into the room.

Sebastian's eyes swept the greyscaled grounds which glittered outside the window with the first gatherings of dew, as if millions of stars had abandoned the bright heavens to catch in the trees and the bushes and litter the grasses and flower beds of the Phantomhive estate.

'How ironic', he thought, as he strode away, closing the door behind him.


End file.
